John Watson
Dr. John H. Watson is a medical doctor and novelist, and is best known as the companion of Sherlock Holmes. Having been wounded in Afghanistan, Watson returns home and calls upon an old friend to help him find lodgings. He is swiftly introduced to and starts rooming with Sherlock Holmes, and becomes his assistant and chronicler. As Watson is also an accomplished physician, having been an army doctor, he opens up a medical practice as well. He later marries Mary Morstan, who takes his last name. Holmes sees Watson as a capable friend and confidante, and frequently relies on him for assistance. Contrary to some portrayals, Watson is highly intelligent and capable, able to follow Holmes' methods, if not as quickly. Further, while Holmes may have the more deductive mind, Watson is also notably better at strategy, defeating his friend regularly in chess. Battle vs. Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday alongside Sherlock Holmes (Novel) (by 123chaseyoung) “You hear somethin’ Doc?” Marshall Wyatt Earp said as both men traverse the badlands in the hot afternoon. Doc Holliday, the infamous gunslinger, tips his hat to hide his head from the searing sun. Both men were sweating like rump roast, but still continue their quest to kill the assassins responsible for Morgan Earp’s death. “I hear nothin’ but death’s tune waitin’, when we finally cross his path,” Doc said, gentlemanly as ever in their horses. Wyatt ignored the smart-ass yip yaps. He gets off his horse and stabs the ground with his bowie knife. He puts his ears in the hilt and listens. “I hear a stagecoach comin’ this way. The informant must be hear,” Wyatt said, his cold dark tone vibrates in the air. For a long time, Doc has been worried for his friend. Their brotherhood has survived through countless of violence, and Doc watches and worries as he sees his great companion, Wyatt Earp, destroys himself into a true monster. “Listen Wyatt, I think enough blood has been spilled throughout. We had a good run, Curly Bill is dead, that was the important thing right? We should end this menagerie soon, you and I will not forever be invincible,” Doc warns him. But Wyatt, hating the pure guts Doc dared to throw in his ears, grabs him by the collar and pulls him off his horse, his dark eyes meets the dentist’s. “You and I both know this is the only way! Those cowboys are out there laughin’ their ass off while my brother lies 6 feet under! Yeah Curly Bill’s dead, but Phony Diehl and Johnny Ringo are still out there. I ain’t stopping until every single cowboy is dead! With or without you...” Riding in the East, Dr. Watson puts more speed in his galloping carriage. Stumbling and hoping things will go well. Their opponent is waiting, and the great Sherlock Holmes isn’t the man who lets his fellow men wait. In the searing hot desert filled with red rock and sand, Holmes didn’t even had the interest to light his pipe as the heat burns his back. “My dear Watson, how do you ever cope up with this temperature? This place feels like the furnace of Tartarus,” Holmes said hanging inside the carriage, comfortable and well, drinking a glass of sherry as their horses drag them to their destination. Watson, being an Afghan War veteran, knows the extent of a city boy’s first reaction to hot weather and cold sweat. “Carry on Holmes. My, it was like the first time I set foot into fellow Afghan’s territory. Trust me you’ll get used to it.” “Hmm. My oven will get used to it,” Holmes replies sarcastically. “Better be ready old boy. I see two horses in front of us. Remember the plan eh?” Watson said. The plan, an idea that rings in Watson’s head. Today, they will be up against a terrible force of nature, two bloodthirsty gunslingers. Watson fully knows the chain of events that lead to this battle. Holmes and he were contacted by the Pinkertons to aid them in capturing two vigilantes, Marshal Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday, who were wanted for murder. They arrived in America two days ago, and Holmes ingenuity led them to where they will meet them. But help from the pinkertons never arrived as they were ambushed yesterday in an Arizonian canyon by unknown assailants. Holmes could have given up this quest, but looking to give a good end for this adventure, pursues to carry on even without the aid of anybody in the region. Yesterday, Holmes disguised himself as a cowboy whistleblower, where he talked with a man named Texas Jack Vermillion in a saloon, and gave them false information to lure Wyatt and Holliday into an open desert, and finally arrest them... if they can. Watson was always against this adventure. They are far away from home, and up against vicious men. But Watson trusts Holmes, he trusts him with all his life, the same way he trusted him in their fight against Moriarty and other countless adventure. If they survive this, it would make a great novel. “Watson, I think its better if you and I switch places,” Holmes said, trying to put Watson inside the more protected carriage. “Nonsense Holmes, things will be fine. Did I ever doubt you?” Watson said. Holmes on the contrary, didn’t want his friend to be in harm’s way—again. The last time they tangle up against an American gunfighter, Watson almost lost his life. Holmes swore never for it to happen again. Wyatt and Doc sees the carriage stop right in front of them. Watson bows his head at the two gunman. Wyatt on the other hand, was impatient as ever. “Yer’ fella said he knows where Phony Diehl is,” Wyatt said. “Now its time you give the end of the bargain.” Watson, using his fake American accent which he and Holmes have practiced, said, “Diehl is in Minnesota. If you have the time, you can tag him riding with the James’ gang.” Dr. Watson picks up a bottle of sherry and hands it over to Doc Holliday. “Drink up. It’ll be a long ride. Sympathizers from Arizona have donated some weapons for ya’. There in the back if you want any.” Doc Holliday and Wyatt look at each other. Then unmount their horse and heads to the back of the large stagecoach. Watson opens the door and lets Wyatt inside. As Wyatt goes deeper inside the carriage, he sees a big pile of weapons ranging from odd-looking European pistols to bolt action rifles. Doc Holliday and Dr. Watson stay outside the coach. But Doc, with his cunning instincts tingling, smells a puff of smoke in the air coming from the inside of the coach. Someone’s been smoking inside, and Doc knows the coach is hiding someone. He gets ready. “Wyatt look out!” Doc yells as he sees Sherlock Holmes tackle Wyatt. Watson grabs his revolver, but Doc was too fast, drawing his six-shooter and shoots Watson in the gut. Watson drops to the floor clutching his abdomen. The horses jumped and screamed at the ensuing battle. “Watson!” Holmes yells as he pummels Wyatt in the face, followed by a knee to the groin and a jab to the sternum. Doc Holliday tries to aim his revolver at Holmes, but fears he may hit Wyatt. Dr. Watson, though wounded, managed to get up and fires at Holliday with his revolver. But Holliday quickly took cover behind the stage coach and continues firing with his shotgun. Holmes and Wyatt were in a gruesome melee. Wyatt managed to pistol whip Holmes in the face, breaking his nose, but Holmes quickly slashes his cheek with a riding crop, before punching Earp again in the torso, breaking a rib. With a quick punch in the shoulder’s nerve, Holmes paralyzes Wyatt in his left arm. Battered and bruised, Wyatt unsheathes his bowie knife with his remaining arm and strikes at Holmes, cutting deeply into Holmes chest. But Holmes disarms Wyatt with his riding crop and continues savagely punching Wyatt in the face into a bloody pulp. Doc Holliday and Dr. Watson too were locked in a gunfight. Watson loads his Mauser, and takes a careful aim, which grazes Holmes in the thigh. Still firing his shotgun, Holliday is still worried about Wyatt. Holmes however, readies his death blow, but Wyatt manages to kick himself away and ran outside the carriage. Holliday gives Wyatt his winchester, which Wyatt viciously fires at the carriage. Holmes lay down and crawls to the entrance as bullets fly above him. Watson fires at Wyatt with his mauser, shooting Wyatt’s rifle and putting it out of commision. Pissed, Wyatt throws the rifle to the ground and continues firing with his revolver. Holliday, knowing that this battle has to end, circles the coach to flank Watson. Watson however, anticipates, still ready with his rifle. As the two were about to meet at the corner, Holliday dives in the air at Watson, and shoots him multiple times in the torso with his two revolvers. Watson died before he hit the ground, and Holliday stumbles. Holmes, upon seeing this, yells in anguish. He draws a pepperbox hidden in his sleeve and fires at the downed Doc, hitting him two times in the back. Holliday yells as hot lead penetrate his shoulder blades. Wyatt suddenly comes from behind aims his revolver at Holmes. But Holmes, in deep though, was in shock of his beloved friend’s gruesome death. “Watson took 4 bullets in the chest. 2 hit the heart. Chances of survival... nil. Must not let his death be in vain. Bastard gunman behind me, will attempt to fire his pistol. Bullet will fly in the right side. Circle around and dodge. Get close beyond his range, before jabbing at his nose. Gunman will attempt another pistol whip, block with elbow, fracture his phalanges, disable gunman’s ability to shoot. Perform heel kick in the left lung. Stunned for 6 seconds, finish him by a strike at the wind pipe. Chances of survival...nil.” Holmes does so perfectly, and Wyatt slumps to the ground trying to catch a breath. Holmes continous savagely punching Wyatt in the face. Wyatt lays on the dusty ground half-dead with a broken, undesirable face. Holmes attempted to shoot Wyatt with his pepperbox, but the gun misfires. So he walks towards Watson’s corpse, tears flowing in his eyes, but tight-lipped nonetheless. To honor his dead friend, Holmes unsheathes Watson’s cane sword, and approaches with bloodthirsty eyes on the down Wyatt. Holmes raises the sabre to chop Wyatt’s head off. BANG! A shot suddenly rings out and a bullet hits Holmes in the left ventricle. Looking behind him, he sees Doc, who still had a pint of strength, holding a smoking revolver in his hand. Holmes, though wounded, still attempts to slash Wyatt. But Wyatt grabs his revolver in time, and fires at Holmes, hitting him in the neck. Holmes yell in pain as the two gunfighters simultaneously took turns emptying their revolvers at him. Holmes took 3 bullets in the chest and 6 bullets in the head. The great detective fell down dead, dead as a rag. “Wyatt...” a man calls him. It was Doc Holliday, wounded and bleeding, but still alive. Wyatt, with relieving joy, helps his down comrade and puts him inside the stagecoach. “You sure are one tough redneck sonuvabitch,” Wyatt said. “And you are one crazy fucker,” Doc Holliday said. “I told you, I’ve always been the better gunman than you.” Wyatt smiled as he climbs to his seat. “Sure you are Doc. I owe you my life tenfold.” “That’s what friends are for you dumbprick,” Doc said as they rode away into the sunset to get medical attention. Leaving behind two corpses for the condors to feast. Winner: Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday Expert's Opinion Holmes may had the advanatage of his intellect and stealth and Watson with his military training, but the two gunfighters were more experienced in a violent confrontation. Holliday and Earp were also better marksman, better eqquipped, and were faster on the draw than the two crime-solvers. To see the original battle, weapons, and votes, click here. Category:Warriors Category:Fictional Warriors Category:Human Warriors Category:Modern Warriors Category:Law Enforcement Warriors Category:Book Warriors